Forgotten Nightmares
by Audio Adrenaline
Summary: An ex-con breaking her parole finds herself stuck outside Silent Hill. She enters the town, hoping to find someone who can help her (or hide her from the authorities), but she instead finds a nightmare come to life. Rated for violence and langage..
1. Remembering Hell

Disclaimer: All right, here goes the legal bullshit: I don't own Silent Hill, Konami does. I don't pretend to own the idea of Silent Hill, I'm just another god damned fan who likes to write. Please don't publish this without my permission, and if you ask for my permission, I will most likely give it to you, but if you don't, I'll sue your ass ^_^...capiche?  
Even as the car flipped over I thought that this wasn't the way to die. I heard the steel grinding against the asphalt and I waited, as if when the car came to a stop, it would be right side up again. The screeching never stopped, the sound tore through me violently as pieces of glass shattered all around me. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the noise and the pain, but it was no use. I kept waiting for the world to shut out, waited for the final moment when all senses were snuffed out; but it never came.   
  
When I opened, I found myself strapped helplessly to a gurney. Leather straps were bound across my chest; an IV was in my arm, and a bandage around my bleeding forearm. I struggled against the restraints to no avail, finally collapsing with the effort. Replacing my attempts at brawn with brains, I started screaming madly for help, screaming at the top of my lungs. Still, no help came, so I just waited.  
  
Blackness again overtook me, sucking me into its cold arms, engulfing me with its anger. I cried in terror in that darkness, the very life of me sucked out through my head it seemed. All I can really remember is a speck of light in the distance before my reality suddenly fused with this nightmare.   
  
I was brought back into this world by the cold hand of someone. It felt wet, slimy almost, like a body that had been underwater for far too long. I shuddered with the thought, memories surfacing to my mind like vicious undercuts from an invisible opponent. When I finally opened my eyes, this attacker, or whatever it had been had disappeared. I was sitting upright in what appeared to be a gas station.   
  
Getting to my feet, I looked around for signs of life; there was no one at all. I shrugged, assuming that my rescuer must have gone off for help or something. I looked over the counter and noted a bloody crowbar that sat on the counter. I touched it as I walked past, and then, thinking that it might have been a good idea, grabbed it. Obviously there had been a struggle, and maybe the crowbar was left for me in the first place.   
  
I continued to search the place until I stumbled upon something, a black pocket radio. Switching it on, I fiddled with the preset channels in the thing (it looked like a fairly expensive do-hickey from the LCD display and the brand name logo upon it). Instead of music, or news for that matter, I only got static. It was almost like a low hum, as if there wasn't even enough radio signals in the place to make white noise.   
  
I pocketed the radio as well as the cash I found in the register. It wasn't as if I was going to leave any cash, no matter how bloodstained, lying around. After all, life on the street did things to people, and it had made me a thief. The police had always asked me why I became a thief, the only answer I could give was that it was how I was raised, and how I'd probably die.   
  
As I walked out onto the street, I looked up to see a sign along the road, reading "Welcome to Silent Hill." I shrugged and walked down the road a ways, hoping I could find a car to jack, or maybe even someone to talk to. I think at the moment, the latter was in my mind the most; I was getting a little crazed from having no one to talk to.  
  
My journey was cut off, however, by an awful noise from the radio in my pocket. I pulled it out of my jacket, cussed, and turned it off promptly. It ceased to whine, but I heard something moving to my left that made me bring the crowbar up into my hands. I could see a shadow coming through the fog ahead of me, but I couldn't tell who, or what it was just yet.  
"Who's there?" I shouted into the mist that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker. It made me want to shiver, to cower, to roll into a little ball and scream. It frightened me beyond anything else, and this figure approaching me made me want to charge blindly and beat it to death. Instincts from long ago kicked in and a quiet snarl escaped my lips as the figure stumbled toward me.   
  
As the figure came into view I immediately noticed two things: one, it was severely disfigured, and two, it seemed to like me very, very much. It groaned as it approached me and I backed several paces away. The thing, whatever it was, had an abundance of arms, lots of arms in fact. I tried to count them, one, two, three-but it's groans and screams distracted me from that simple action.  
  
"Y'know, they say plastic surgery can fix anything," I whimpered as it approached me, those multiple arms reaching out for me. The thing had no head, only arms, and a torso. It was using a pair of longer arms as legs, and even those were seemingly skinless and perverse.  
  
I gulped down a lump in my throat as the groans became louder, and suddenly the thought appeared in my head: it has no mouth, how is it making noise? That, unfortunately was answered almost immediately when from what I had taken as a wrinkle in its disgusting skin tore apart to reveal a gaping maw filled with jagged edged teeth. Blackness seemed to be all that was inside the creature's newly formed "mouth" and I backed away even further, still groping the crowbar in my hand.  
  
"Chriiiistinne," it moaned as it approached me, and I nearly dropped the crowbar in shock. It knew my name, somehow, it knew me. I stammered as it came closer, those arms groping for me, those hideous limbs trying to drag me to my doom. I felt one of the lower arms clasp around my calf and I swung the crowbar blindly, screaming.   
  
The crowbar was caught by one of the other arms as more grabbed a hold of me, pulling me close to the disgusting maw. The creature's skin against mine made me want to puke, it's hands groping at my head, pulling against my clothes, my hair, crusty nails digging into my skin. I screamed in terror, thrashing around, but it was no use, the creature had a firm hold on my body. I was forced up against the bloody torso and I felt the sharp teeth graze against my shirt.   
  
I thrashed desperately as I finally freed one arm, pushing against the creature, listening to it howl in anger. My hand slipped against its sticky flesh and I felt my hand slip into the vicious hole of its mouth. Before I could retract my arm, though, the mouth shut tight around my arm. I let out a cry and finally freed my other arm, prying the creature's mouth open as it attempted to chew up my arm Finally getting my hand out from it's mouth, covered in it's foul smelling saliva and blood, I dove for the crowbar that it had dropped when it realized that it wasn't meat. As soon as I got the cold metal in my hand, I felt as if something else was in my spot, something as vicious as this many-armed freak.   
  
I began to beat it viciously with the crowbar, grinning maliciously every time it hit the rotten flesh of the creature. THWACK! THWACK! The crowbar made a disgusting sound every time it hit, breaking bones and tearing apart flesh. Finally I subdued the beast to the ground, and with a guttural yell, I began to kick at it, stomping it into hamburger on the pavement.  
  
"TAKE THAT YOU FUCKING MONSTER!!!" I screamed as I beat it, knowing it was already dead, but sanity was past me. I kept beating and beating it, turning the already smashed carcass into a splatter of blood on the pavement. It was only after I had finally gotten worn out from all the screaming, stomping, kicking and smashing that I stopped, bloody hands on the knees of bloody trousers, panting and wheezing.  
  
"God damn...monster...nobody...messes with...me," I panted, straightening finally. The crowbar in my hand was soaked in blood, bits of bone and flesh sticking along with the gooey crimson substance. I turned away from the carcass and vomited, the sour liquid spilling from my lips giving the concrete a nice greenish hue. Wiping my mouth, I turned and walked down the road, pulling the radio out of my pocket.  
  
"Last time this thing went off, that ugly bastard attacked me, so maybe-" I paused, flipping the switch of the radio back on only to hear nothing. "That means that it somehow warns me of the monster?" I said to myself, walking down the road, pocketing the radio again. I wiped some sweat off my head, only succeeding in getting my forehead bloody. Cussing, I walked down the street more, hoping that somewhere in Silent Hill there was more than just demons that were somehow familiar to me. 


	2. Mystery Man

Disclaimer: This is the second chapter in my fan-fic. I don't pretend to own Silent Hill, Konami owns it, I'm just a fan of a really good game, nothing more. 

And please review my story, I don't care if you're going to flame me or not, I like people commenting on my work. After all, if you're going to complain about how "bad" my work is, or how much it "sucks" and you don't review, you can honestly kiss my white ass...~_^

As I walked down the foggy road into Silent Hill, I saw nothing more. No more deranged beasts, but no people either. I figured that the place was abandoned, by the looks of the various houses I broke into, extremely quick. It was as if the people just up and left, like they just disappeared into the fog. I shuddered at the thought of people dissolving in the fog as I trod down the road, keeping eyes and ears open for any sounds. 

I was examining some graffiti spray painted on the wall when I tripped on something. Pushing myself up off the concrete, I cursed and looked at whatever had been rudely obstructing my passage. It was a book of some sort, leather bound and thick with paper. I picked it up, only to find that the leather wasn't exactly leather; the binding was of human flesh. 

Screaming, I dropped the book, shaking my hands madly as if to get the evil to keep away from me. In an instant, the radio in my pocket crackled to life and I heard something approaching from in front of me. Gathering my wits, I gripped the crowbar tightly in my hands like a baseball bat and waited for one of those freaks to come out of the fog after me. 

Oddly enough, it seemed that nothing was near, no footsteps, nothing. I kept my position as I waited for it, the clammy feeling of bare, dead flesh against my own. Still, nothing came out of the fog, though the radio did not stop its restless screaming. I shifted uncomfortably, peering into the fog, still looking for whatever I had heard. The radio blared, and I swung the crowbar in circles around me, to fend off whatever might be trying to get closer. 

An arm grabbed me from behind, pinning my own arms to my sides; then a second and third arm joined the first, and I felt breath against my back. Struggling, I managed to escape for a moment, only to be thrown to the ground, the beast on top of me. I felt the jagged teeth scrape against my back as it held me down with all those arms. I vomited what remained in my stomach from the last time I had puked, and struggled violently. I was scared out of my wits; I knew that there was no way that I was getting out of this mess. 

One of the hands grasped the back of my head, and before I could do anything, smashed it into the concrete. The last things I saw before the black took over were my blood mixing with the yellowish green color of bile. Everything faded into black and I felt like I had died.

Black faded into deeper and more sinister colors, red hue peeking through the darkness. I felt as if my entire soul was being devoured by the darkness, my entire self corrupted by that black. I spun through that miserable abyss, fearing that I was indeed dead, not just unconscious or being eaten alive. Though, when one thought about it, being eaten alive wasn't exactly appealing either.

When I realized that I wasn't dead was when I felt a sudden pain in my head, sharp, like something was piercing the bone. I screamed, but no sound came out, and as I flailed, I did not move. Tears began to streak down my cheeks as I whimpered in fright. I hadn't been that scared in a very, very long time. 

Jerking out of my state, I found myself still on the pavement, lying in a pool of my own blood, but there was no creature to be found. Patting myself down, I checked for the radio, which was humming unmercifully in my pocket, and the crowbar, which had been torn from my hands by the beast and lay a few feet away. I was relatively uninjured, my head was bleeding freely from a gash across my forehead, and my hands were bruised and battered, but I was alive. 

Pushing myself up on my feet, I stood uneasily, looking around. My demented attacker was nowhere to be seen, not a trace that it had even been there, save for my splitting headache and vague memories. I stumbled down the road, ignoring the fog that swathed me. 

My footsteps echoed, but after I had been trotting along for about half an hour, a second set of echoes joined the first. These footsteps were not like the monster's; there was no sickly squishing noise after each step, no groans into the air as it moved. Whatever this was, it either learned to shut up, bought shoes, or it was another person. 

I stopped moving, the footsteps continued, and I waited, the crowbar held tightly in a hand. The footsteps paused and I could dimly make out a shape in the fog, standing on two legs, with something rather menacing held in its hands. I took a few steps backwards as I realized exactly what the thing was: a shotgun.

The owner of the shotgun decided to take a few shots at my feet, the pellets imbedding themselves in the asphalt. I yelled and threw the crowbar toward my opponent, resulting in a loud curse from the shadowy figure. It came closer and I saw the scruffy figure of a man, a shotgun at his side standing before me.

"You all right girly?" He said with a grin, looking toward the bleeding cut on my forehead. "Looks like you saw some of them freaky things too, eh? Let's find something to clean you up with."

I nodded my head and he started to walk away, beckoning me to follow. Without thinking I followed him, remembering to pick up my crowbar as I walked past. I didn't want to be caught unarmed by one of the creatures again, even though the burly man in front of me carried something I was sure could kill those nasty buggers. 


	3. She Smiled

Disclaimerly stuff: I don't own Silent Hill, but I do own the characters that I've unfortunately placed in the situation. Poor little buggers. Please review the story. Comments are the life-blood of the amateur writer...  
  
I followed the man through the streets, looking around nervously as the shadows around me shifted and bent in odd ways, reminding me of that creature that had attacked me. I kept close to him, despite my usual aversion to being anywhere near males of the species, but he had a gun and I didn't want to be too far from him, in case some monsters showed up again. As I walked, I began actually taking in the looks of the town. For all matters, it seemed as if the place had been completely abandoned for months, if not years. I wasn't entirely sure what was going on in this place, but I knew that I didn't like it one bit. Hell, prison was better than Silent Hill was ever going to be, no matter how much it was toted as a nice vacation spot, it was the closest thing to hell that I had ever seen.  
  
"So what are you doing here?" He said conversationally as we turned down another street. Since I met him, I had seen no monsters, not a single creature had crossed our path. Don't get me wrong, I was greatful for it, but their absence made me even more frightened. I wondered if the creatures knew what they were doing, and if making me more terrified was all a part of their grand scheme to make me into barbeque.  
  
"I'm....uh," I stammered as I tried to think up a good excuse. Of course there was no way I was going to tell the guy that I had broken parole, stolen a truck and driven madly out to find a hide-a-way in the middle of this forsaken town. "I was just driving through. I crashed my car just outside town and I wound up here." I added quickly, rubbing the back of my head sheepishly.  
  
"Everyone here has their secrets kid," he said as we approached what appeared to be a diner. Taking a key from his back pocket, he unlocked the door and we both walked inside.  
  
It was a shabby place, the vinyl seat covers torn and burned in places, the plastic glasses were yellowed with age, but at least it was safe from the monsters. The man set down his shotgun on the front counter and gestured for me to follow him. Not wanting to be caught in a room surrounded on three sides by sheets of glass, I did as I was instructed and followed him into the back room, setting my crowbar down on the counter near his gun as I went. It seemed that the place jutted up against a townhouse and as we walked in, I could smell the mildew in the stale air.  
  
"You can stay in this place, it's monster-free," he said in answer to my unasked questions. I flopped down on the couch in the small living room, half closing my eyes as I looked around the dim place.  
  
"I don't suppose there's electricity, or is that too much to ask?" I said wearily and the man flipped a switch on the wall. A small lamp on the table next to me lit up, but that was all the light I was going to get without opening up the shuttered windows.Hesitantly, I half opened one of the windows, looking out into the foggy street. For a moment, there was nothing, and then, I thought I saw a shadow moving through the fog. It wasn't one of my many-armed demons, it was something that moved like a person, but every fibre of my being was telling me that it definitely wasn't human. I quickly slammed the shutter closed and took a few deep breaths.  
  
"What was that about?" He asked curiously, only having seen me slam the window shutter closed and fall in a pale heap upon the couch. I shrugged at him and that seemed to at least satisty his questioning.  
  
"Anyway, you'll want to clean that cut of yours," he said, nodding his chin at me. My hand instantly went to my forehead, where the blood was already drying on my wound. "I don't know what kind of infection you could get from those monsters. There's a bathroom down the hall, and I think the water's still fine."  
  
I nodded my head slowly and got up, walking past him down the hall. I looked around the place with an appraising eye, as much as I could in the dim light provided by a single bare bulb in a fixture on the ceiling. It seemed that the people of Silent Hill had nightvision or something because there were so few lights in the house, and a good percentage of the lights available didn't work.  
  
I turned the faucet on cold and washed away the dried blood and cleaned my headwound carefully, taking the time to make sure I cleaned any dirt from it before I let it bleed again. Wiping away the fresh blood with a towel, I threw the towel on the floor. I looked over to the shower, and, without a second thought, stripped naked and stepped in.  
  
The water was cold, and I was sure that it wasn't going to get warmer, but I needed a shower, and I doubted that I'd get another opportunity if I left the place. I soaked in the cold stream of water for a good half an hour before I finally got out. Drying myself off with the only clean towel in the place, I redressed and walked out of the bathroom, feeling quite refreshed.  
  
Something was different about the house, not in looks, but in feel. I could sense that something was horribly amiss, and as I took a step out into the hall, I wished that I hadn't left my crowbar behind in the diner. I walked cautiously toward the living room, and as I passed the stairs, I heard a loud thump. Jumping back, I looked into the darkness of the stairwell and saw nothing, only shadow. Sighing with relief, I began to make my way back into the living room.  
  
I had taken no more than one step when another loud thump sounded from the stairs and something fell to the last step. I screamed as I saw what it was, the mangled body of the man I had followed. His face was just a mass of bloody flesh and his arms were twisted at odd angles, bone sticking out from his left elbow, his fingers contorted pain. I whimpered and backed away slowly, my entire body quivering with fear as I heard something walking down the stairs, very slowly. My heel hit the wall and I groped at it, hoping to find something- a door handle, anything!  
  
The monster stepped out into the dim light and I let out a scream of horror. It was not one of the many-limbed creatures, it was something infinitely more horrible. It looked like a woman, completely nude, but so shriveled and scrawny that it was barely decipherable. Her long black, scraggly hair fell over her shoulders, obscuring her breasts but not entirely hiding the fact that her flesh was moldy, rotting away with maggots squirming through sinew and bone. I held back the urge to vomit as I looked at her face. Cataracted eyes stared out at me, seeing, yet unable to see from deep eye sockets. Her jaw was missing, as if it had been completly torn off, leaving a rotting tongue hanging limply from her open throat.  
  
As I stood there in horror, she looked right into my eyes with those milky white orbs and smiled, her bloody upper teeth, a horrble set of fangs, revealed from under the disgustingly pallid upper lip. I screamed, and she began to walk toward me... 


End file.
